


Mirth Becomes a Feast

by Scruggzi



Series: Adventures and Explorations [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: A very awkward dinner, F/M, Followed by shagnanigans, Jack is ticklish, Tickle Fights, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Jack arrives at Phryne's parents' estate in time for an uncomfortable meal and Phryne discovers his deep, dark secret.





	Mirth Becomes a Feast

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to finish Kneel at some point I swear, I just liked the idea of starting this series with their first time now it's become an ongoing exploration of their developing kink. Also if you have seen that gif of Nathan Page giggling about vegetables you will understand why I have a powerful need to see Jack tickled.
> 
> Also I didn't read through the subsequent chapters so if I've made any plot holes appear let me know in the comments and I will try to fix them.

Autumn was well over and the winter weather was beginning to set in in earnest, the old estate rattling with icy draughts that blew out candles and whispered like little ghosts around every corner. The high-vaulted blue of the sky was accompanied by a heavy frost that glittered in the hedgerows like a smattering of sparkling gems, crunching under foot in the chill air.

The day Jack arrived, as neat and well-combed as any hopeful beau intending to make a good impression on his lady’s parents, the clouds had finally rolled in. The grey light drained the world of colour, an the temperature – already cold – plummeted further with the icy northern winds. He wrapped his heavy coat around him and lamented the loss of the Australian sun.

The feeling of melancholy was short lived; Phryne was here, and, having been pulled inexorably into her orbit, he had arrived determined to show her, in word and deed, exactly how much their partnership meant to him. He could only hope the sentiment would be well received.

The first obstacle in the execution of this plan was seated next to Phryne as he was ushered into the parlour. Miss Fisher herself had been wearing a somewhat glazed expression that he recognised from occasional conversations he had seen her have with her Aunt Prudence. It vanished instantly as soon as she saw him, and she was on her feet before the butler had finished announcing his presence.

“Jack! I didn’t expect you here for days! Why ever didn’t you telephone? I could have driven up to meet you.” She was breathless and delighted, her words coming out quickly and without thought. It was true though, a meeting in a different county to the one occupied by her parents had a certain amount to recommend it.

She had crossed the room to stand close to him but, mindful of the woman sitting behind her, she resisted the urge to take him into her arms and kiss him senseless; it was difficult, and she rather resented the effort. Jack took her hand, the faintest hint of a smile the only sign of the weight of their shared history as his fingers, still cold from the biting wind, teased along her knuckles and the soft skin at her wrist; the gesture, so simple and yet so intimate, brought goosebumps out along her arms.

“I was hoping to surprise you,” he said softly, his adoring eyes determinedly not looking at her lips.

The elder woman was a little shorter and stouter than Phryne, and the years had greyed her hair, which was long and elegantly coiffured. Her features were a little softer, but the resemblance between the two women left him in no doubt who Miss Fisher’s companion was. He did not want to think about the kind of first impression he would make on Phryne’s mother if he acted on his desires just now.

“Mission accomplished, Inspector.”

Phryne smiled up at him, almost straining herself with the effort of not touching him. She couldn’t quite resist reaching up to straighten his tie – her tie – just to let him know she had noticed it, then forced herself to remember her manners.

“Mother, allow me to introduce Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, of the Victoria Police force.”

“How do you do, Baroness? I hope I haven’t caused you any inconvenience with my early arrival.”

Margaret’s eyes had lit up in a way which plainly read ‘future son in law’ in letters possibly visible from space.

“Please, call me Margaret, why you’re practically part of the family. Henry’s told me all about you. Phryne of course has told me nothing, so we will have to get to know each other over dinner. I’ll just pop up to his study and bring Henry down, he’ll be glad to have another man about the place – leave you bright young things to get reacquainted.” She bustled off with a wink in a swish of expensive silk, leaving the two detectives alone.

There was a somewhat pregnant pause in which Jack and Phryne simply looked at each other, drinking in all the little details that had faded with distance, savouring the other’s presence. Jack made to speak, but all his carefully rehearsed speeches seemed to have vanished, replaced by nothing but the desire to sweep her up in his arms and never let her go. Phryne was very much of the same mind, she put a quieting finger to his lips to halt any time-consuming declarations he might feel the need to make.

“Judging by that performance we are unlikely to make it till desert without her planning our wedding down to the last canape, and if I am going to endure that experience I am going to want a very pleasant memory to dwell on between courses.”

He smiled, taking the hint and drawing her in for a kiss which did a rather better job of expressing his feelings than anything he could have said. The feel of her against him, warm and real and alive, was enough to make the whole trip to England worthwhile, her tongue dancing against his, the silken strands of her hair running like water through his fingers.

There was a slight cough behind them.

“Hullo again Jack, Margaret said you were early.”

Henry Fisher’s timing remained impeccable, but it did at least give them a couple of seconds for Phryne to wipe the lipstick smudge from Jack’s mouth and straighten her hair before her mother walked in. The woman did not need any encouragement, and they were likely to suffer enough as it was without adding that little piece of ammunition to Margaret’s arsenal.

As it happened, the meal was not as excruciating a cross examination of their as-yet-undefined relationship as it might have been. Unfortunately, this was because Henry had decided to help. He was familiar enough with the temperaments of both women to know that Margaret was going to gush heavily and let her enthusiasm run away with her, and that this would do nothing but irritate Phryne to no useful purpose. He therefore decided to do his best to keep the attention of the group firmly fixed on himself for at least the first few courses.

He got a little carried away. Periodically catching Phryne’s eye to make sure she was well aware he was doing this on purpose and for her benefit, he plied them all with tall tales which became increasingly inappropriate and unlikely with every glass of wine. Eventually Margaret herself was forced to intervene before he could really incriminate himself, by feigning a headache before they reached the port. This was a long-established marital signal that Henry was too drunk and should _stop talking right now._ He smiled blithely as if he was not well aware of the fact and offered to bring her up a tonic if she wanted to lie down.

“I’m sure Phryne will be more than able to see to our guest, won’t you my dear?”

Phryne ground out an affirmative, uncertain whether to be mortified or grateful for the man’s behaviour, and the baron and baroness departed, bidding the two detectives good night.

Phryne let out a long, heavy sigh, and Jack laid a reassuring hand over hers.

“It could have been worse,” he pointed out, gently.

“How? Unless you are planning to take up a life of petty crime and were hoping for inspiration.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Well, so far no-one’s been murdered.”

“I wouldn’t count on that lasting.”

The glare Phryne had been directing at the empty doorway through which her parents had exited couldn’t survive when she turned to face him; a glimmering smile broke through the clouds darkening her face. She took his hand in hers, pulling him to his feet with unmistakable purpose.

“Come along, Inspector. I’ll show you to your room.”

 

***

 

His room, of course, turned out to be her room. His case had been taken up to one of the guest rooms by the butler; She pointed it out as a passing interest whilst leading him to a different room entirely and practically dragging him inside.

As the door shut behind him, Jack decided he really was going to have to take some kind of charge here if he had any hope of retaining even a little of his dignity by the end of the night. Phryne hummed in delight as he wrapped one large hand around her waist, drawing her in to kiss her slowly. They were finally alone and without the threat of interruption, and he was determined to make a very thorough job of seducing her.

Phryne’s hands were at his waist, holding him gently, as if he was some fragile thing; a dream or soap bubble that could implode if treated roughly, or else some wild creature that would shy away if frightened. There was a tremble in the hand at his hip that surprised him, it had not really occurred to him that she too might be nervous, and somehow the thought was reassuring. He felt a renewed confidence and sense of purpose; after tonight she would never again have cause to doubt him, or to fear that he might break, he would make sure of it.

Jack’s hand was in Phryne’s hair, the slow stroking of his fingers through the strands causing a tingle of tiny sparks across the nape of her neck. She shivered and slipped her hand from its respectable position atop his jacket to his waist below it. He was trim and solid with hardened planes of muscle and bone, nothing spare to speak of decadence or excess, despite the man’s prestigious appetite. She happily lost herself in his kisses, which spoke of other prestigious appetites that she longed to explore more fully. Still, she did not rush, afraid even now that he would fly away, or else evaporate beneath her fingers if pushed too far too fast. He felt so solid, so real beneath her hands, she risked pulling back to look at him and her breath caught in her throat at the look of utter adoration on his face.

“Phryne.”

He had never said her name like that before, a sigh, low and longing; and perhaps because he was usually so reserved with it, the word sounded sinfully intimate as it rolled off his tongue.

“Jack.”

It came out as a whisper, full of all the unsaid words they were not quite ready for.

His serious face held the tiniest twinkle of a smile as he continued, “I would very much like to make love to you, Miss Fisher.”

If he had stopped there it would have been more than respectably seductive, but some combination of nerves and a determination to remain a gentleman even in ignoble circumstances had him rambling on.

“If you want to, of course, I don’t mean to presume…”

Phryne cut him off with a kiss before he could talk himself out of it, allowing her hands to wander up his back, slipping down to explore the firm muscles of his arse – which was just as delightful as she had always imagined.

“More than anything,” she breathed her answer against his lips, her hands smoothing up the solid plane of his chest to find his tie, sliding the silk out from underneath his waistcoat, letting the rich fabric run through her fingers as it was loosened, then discarded.

Jack nodded, his eyes intense, unsmiling as his hand in her hair slid down her back to find the buttons of her dress. It was a simple thing of pale blue satin that dipped low at the back, revealing the silky skin of her shoulders. The feel of his hands, warm against her skin, was mesmerising, his fingers deft and sure as he parted the fabric, stroking lightly along her spine as if counting every vertebra. He seemed to have found his confidence again and Phryne made the choice on the spot to let him win this round. Perhaps he needed it; needed to be the seducer, needed to know they were equals here in this domain where she had tended to walk a step ahead, turning only to fluster him with flashes of contraband pulled from forbidden locations. That said, the man had only lost a tie so far whilst she was almost fully dressed, and already she was practically a puddle on the floor.

Jack threw himself into the task of pleasing her with a focus and sureness that left her breathless. He was making love to her with soft kisses and caresses, enjoying every moment, the feel of her skin, every soft touch of his lips against her neck. He pulled back to shrug off his jacket, letting her dress fall to the floor; the low back had not allowed for a slip and the sight of her breasts, bare and pebbling with arousal, made him swallow hard, his eyes wide.

Phryne smiled softly at the sight, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple fully explained Eve’s temptation – Phryne could feel her mouth water with the need to taste it. She resisted for the moment, she didn’t trust herself to stop. Stepping out of the dress and throwing it over the arm of the chaise, she bathed in the heat of his gaze as she moved off to her dressing screen to take care of family planning.

“I think you may need to be wearing fewer layers, Jack, unless you want assistance.”

Jack rolled his eyes and shrugged off his waistcoat; he was not going to beg just yet. He toed off shoes and socks which joined the rest of their discarded clothing, when Phryne appeared from behind the screen - completely naked apart from a look of unmistakable challenge.

He decided there were better ways to be a gentleman than to procrastinate. Covering the room in two strides, he picked her up in strong arms – much to her surprise and delight – and placed her carefully, almost reverently, on the bed. Kissing her deeply, letting his hands roam over her hips, her breasts, teasing her nipples between her fingers till she was gasping and moaning into his mouth.   

“An improvement, but still a little overdressed, Inspector.”

Phryne’s eyes were sparkling as she pushed his braces off his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt, before giving in to the temptation to taste the skin on his neck and jaw.

He shrugged off his shirt, leaving himself in trousers and a short-sleeved union suit, buttoned up tight against the cold and damp of the English winter.

“Not for what I have in mind,” he murmured, lips and hands trailing lower, his touch searing like fire, almost robbing her of speech completely.

“Mmmm, well you know I like a man with a… _oh god Jack!_ ”

His mouth had found her nipple at the same moment his long, thick finger had slid through the dark hair covering her sex and he flicked a lazy thumb against her clitoris as he began to explore. She was dripping wet. He lifted his head and raised both eyebrows in surprise; good god, had he really done that to her?

Phryne tilted her head and matched him eyebrow for eyebrow with a look that clearly said ‘get on with it, Inspector’. Not wishing to deny her, he returned his attentions to her nipples whilst alternating between a slow circle of her clitoris and slipping a single finger inside her. He was investigating, feeling the different textures of her intimate skin, discovering the places she liked to be touched. He knew at once when he had found the spot he was searching for; Phryne’s contented sighs became a loud moan, almost a whimper, and he pressed harder on the spot to make her do it again.

Phryne had decided to give up on banter for the time being. Jack was proving to be more than adept when it came to pleasing his partner – not that she had ever doubted it, but she had assumed he would need a little more instruction – she should have known better than to underestimate him. Perfectly content to be proved wrong under the circumstances, she lay back and let him work, – his hands, his lips against her neck and her nipples, the love she could feel in his every touch; a maelstrom of sensation to glory and delight in. Then he added a second finger and her mind went blissfully blank. She thought she called his name, followed by a string of curses and then nothing but inarticulate moans as she came hard against his fingers, her hands in her hair and eyes screwed shut.

“Good god, Jack, take those trousers off at once and let me fuck you.” She hadn’t intended to be so coarse but her brain was not operating at its full capacity.

Jack chuckled, his smile a little smug but mostly joyful in a way she had hardly ever seen in him.

“So demanding. You may have one out of two.” He bent his head to her ear, his warm breath ghosting across her neck. “I’m not nearly finished with you yet.”

Leveraging himself up, he stepped back to remove his trousers, leaving his union suit in place, much to Phryne’s disappointment. She could see a very interesting bulge tenting the front of it and had no intention of keeping her hands to herself. As soon as he returned to the bed she was on him, tracing a single finger up and over his erection, watching him shiver and flush, his eyes closing as he huffed out a sharp breath.

There were no words. It had been years, over a year before Rosie had left even, since Jack had last been intimate with anyone. He was no blushing virgin, and he had been young and in love once, he was comfortable around women – an accomplished flirt in the right circumstances. But this. This was the woman he loved - desperately, irrationally, unreasonably and despite all rational arguments to the contrary - naked, flushed from a climax of his own making, and she was stroking him with a predatory, almost proprietary, expression, like a cat marking her territory. As if his body was a feast or a wealth of riches suddenly hers.

Reluctantly, and before she could distract him to the point of simply giving in and fucking her until they were both insensible, Jack removed her hand, raising it to his lips. She flexed her fingers, stroking the sharp line of his mouth, into the corner where his secret smiles hid, tracing the dip of his philtrum. His eyes never left her face as he took the top of the digit between his lips and flicked his tongue against it. Thoughts of what else he might be able to do with that tongue flooded Phryne’s brain and she shivered in anticipation.

“Please,” he whispered.

She recognised the offer for what it was - and a man begging to give her oral pleasure was hardly something she was likely to turn down. He might not be comfortable articulating his desires, but perhaps that would change as he grew more accustomed to being able to act on them.

She let him press her back into the bed, his kisses urgent as he made his way down her body, detouring only briefly to greet her nipples like old friends. He kissed his way down one thigh and up the other, licking at the wetness on her skin, revelling in her, utterly lost to himself. It was a glorious sight, to see him so unrestrained. Phryne did not have much time to enjoy it however, he caught her eyes with a devilish smirk as he lowered his mouth to her.

Jack was not a man who liked to lose control. He kept his head clear and his person neat, remembering all too clearly the trenches and battlefields where such control was impossible; no man could truly be a gentleman in war. Sex in general, and with Phryne in particular, had always taunted him with that possibility, to let go of the restraint that held him in check and give in to whatever debased fantasies were hidden beneath. Now, with the taste of her coating his tongue and his hands grasping the firm globes of her buttocks, he could feel that control slip. He let it go. Lapping at her, sinking his tongue deep into her glorious cunt, drowning in the sound of her panting out his name. He shifted his grip to her thighs, manoeuvring her legs so they were over his shoulders, giving him better access. He began to lick her in slow, deliberate stripes from her opening, moving up to circle around the swollen bud of her clitoris. He felt the pinch of her fingers in his hair as she guided him to the spot she wanted, riding his mouth as she came shaking and moaning against his lips.

Phryne was impressed. More than impressed, actually. She had often wondered about Jack’s tastes in the bedroom and a few choice flirtations and an inappropriate conversation in the presence of a corpse had her suspicions roused. She would have laid money that the man had a talented mouth, but this was a level of enthusiasm she had not expected. The sensitive tingle was still humming across her skin and she hadn’t even caught her breath when she felt his fingers breach her again, stroking gently but inexorably in time with the gentle press of his tongue just below her over sensitised clitoris. She broke again, a scalding flash of fire and delight that fogged her vision and brought hoarse laughter to her lips.

When she was able to focus properly, it was on Jack, lying by her side and grinning at her as if he had just beaten her to a vital clue in an investigation. He reached out to stroke her cheek; he looked utterly besotted. He also looked extremely pleased with himself and it was slightly galling how attractive the expression was. She was going to have to up her game – not something she had initially expected from this aspect of their relationship.

“Alright?” he asked, rather unnecessarily and clearly fishing for a compliment.

She nodded, trying to remember how to construct sentences properly.

“Mmmhm. Although it was terribly unchivalrous of you to keep that talent to yourself for so long. I hope you plan on making it up to me as often as possible.”

“As often as you like.” He looked so sincerely happy at the idea of bringing her pleasure, and the look went straight to her heart. She was sure her smile was as besotted as his.

Phryne snuggled in closer, feeling the press of his erection against her hip as her fingers moved to unbutton his union suit.

“How on earth are you still wearing this thing?” she tsked at him, delighted at each delicious inch of golden skin she revealed as the soft cotton was pushed from his shoulders.

He tilted his head and his smile turned self-deprecating.

“It’s been a long time, I wanted to make sure you were happy before…” he trailed off awkwardly, and Phryne, understanding, captured his lips in a kiss of gentle reassurance. Darling man.

“Jack, you’re here. You came halfway across the world for me. I promise you, I’m very happy.”

She pushed the suit away from his shoulders, down over his hips and off. Finally, finally she had him naked under her hands. She was like a child in a sweetshop, unable to decide which delicious treat to devour first. Pushing him onto his back she began to explore, nibbling the skin of his neck, stroking the taut planes of his stomach and the thick muscles of his thighs. He let her get on with it, this tender exploration making him feel loved in a way he had not felt in years. She had not said the words, might never say them, but he felt them in her every touch and that was enough.

It was as she was investigating the lean swell of his biceps, tracing the vein that ran up his arm with her tongue, that her hand brushed lightly over the skin of his armpit. It was not intentional, her focus had been elsewhere, but the effect was immediate and in its own way utterly marvellous.

Jack Robinson giggled.

It was not a laugh or a chuckle or a chortle. It was high pitched – a good octave above his normal laugh – and accompanied by a smile that transformed his serious face completely. It passed in a moment and he looked mortified, misreading the surprise on her face as offence at his response.

He started to stammer out an apology, but she interrupted him.

“Jack Robinson, are you _ticklish_?”

Her obvious delight at uncovering this deep dark secret was plain enough, and Jack realised too late that he was now in trouble.

“Not as far as I am aware.” He tried to play it off, but he realised at that moment that he could no longer remember the last time anyone had thought to check. Before the war probably. That’s how long it had been since he had last laughed like that.

Phryne saw the wistful little cloud pass across his features and decided she was not putting up with it. Not now she knew it was possible to make her dour inspector giggle like a schoolgirl. She pounced, fingers wiggling in his armpit and the crook of his neck. His skin, once sensitised, appeared determined to betray him and he curled up, helpless with mirth and unable to fend off the relentless assault.

“Well it seems we have our answer,” she crowed, delighted.

Distracting her with a kiss, Jack got his revenge, his fingers finding the sensitive spot underneath her ribs as unerringly as they had found the ones between her legs. They tussled back and forth, shaking with laughter, tears of joy dampening the pillows of the antique four poster bed.

This was another kind of intimacy, and one Jack had no idea he was craving until he found it. The freedom to be foolish and free, not just a serious man but a joyful, playful one as well. It appealed to the competitive streak that had always defined their friendship, a tender little tussle for a victory in which no-one really lost. Phryne was ecstatic, despite having somehow lost the upper hand in this conflict; letting her in enough to trust her with sex was one thing, but this, the pure joyful abandoning of dignity, was almost better. She was helpless with laughter; his fingers were merciless, and her skin was already sensitive from his more serious ministrations. She was going to have to change the rules of this game.

Phryne kept her armpits tightly closed, fending Jack off with a feint at his neck, while her other hand slid between them and found her prize. He was still hard, despite the change in mood, and gods he felt glorious, thick and hot, his skin soft over solid flesh. Jack groaned and stopped his attempts to discover if her armpits were as sensitive as her ribs at once.

“Not very sporting, Miss Fisher,” he gasped, his head falling back against the pillows.

Phryne grinned, laying her body over his, her lips a breath away from his mouth as she continued to stroke him, slowly, learning the feel of him, rubbing her thumb up over his cockhead and smoothing the moisture there back down to lubricate her caresses.

“Would you like me to stop, Jack?” she smiled, knowing the answer.

“God no.” He pulled her in for a kiss, which quickly turned carnal as her hand was replaced by the silky wet heat between her thighs.

She slid herself up and down his length, coating him with her fluids before sinking down on him and taking him all the way inside. They both cried out at the sudden bliss of it. Jack’s eyes had squeezed shut as he fought to keep himself in check, just a little longer, it felt too good to end so soon, but he was already seeing stars. Phryne leant over him, loving the feel of her skin against his, the connection that went far beyond the flesh. She was still a little afraid of that connection, of what it might mean for her, but this – the feel of him filling her, his face, flushed and tense with arousal…this was perfect.

Their lips met as they began to move, languid pulses that never quite separated them. Jack’s hands were free to slide along the curve of Phryne’s hip and smooth the skin of her back. It was intense and overwhelming, a feeling too deep to put into words. Phryne rolled them over, leaving Jack on top of her. The move surprised him a little, until he felt her hands enthusiastically palming his arse (she concluded swiftly that it was even better without the intervening layers of clothing). Hooking her legs around his hips, she pulled him closer, encouraging him to take over their rhythm.

Jack felt rather than heard her as she kissed her way along his jaw to his ear, nipping the lobe in passing for the sheer pleasure of doing so. The pounding of blood in his ears was drowning out all sound and he could feel the pinch of his climax approaching. Too soon. Far too soon.

“It’s alright, Jack. Just let go.”

He had never been that good at refusing her.

He thrust hard, harder than he intended, but the sound she made was nothing but encouraging, so he gave up on trying to be a gentleman and gave them the fuck they both wanted. He thought he felt Phryne come again, a little shiver and a press of nails into his back which spurred him on faster and harder until he shattered with a cry of her name. Stars flashed across his vision and to his embarrassment he could feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes. He was home.

They lay together without speaking for some time, Jack’s head resting on Phryne’s chest as she stroked his hair. Everything he wanted to say - that she was perfect, wonderful, that he loved her more than he thought possible – felt either too much or too trite, so he stayed silent, breathing her in, enjoying the tingle in his scalp where her fingers threaded through his hair.

Phryne could practically hear the wheels turning in Jack’s head; she was languid and comfortable and content in a way she could rarely remember being. It was not a time for grand declarations or introspection, she decided. It was a time for a nap, and perhaps another round later if they were not too sore.

“You know there’s no escape, now I know your secret, Inspector,” she teased, her hand ghosting lightly over his hip threatening to resume its tickle torture.

Jack smiled, glad to couch the conversation in euphemism and innuendo as had always been their habit.

“You forget, Miss Fisher, that I know yours as well.” His hand moved to that spot under her ribs, cupping it protectively in his large palm.

“It seems we are both doomed,” she sighed in mock tragedy.

“At least we’ll go down together.” He replied, his deadpan immaculate.

She caught his eye with a smirk and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
